You See the Battlefield
by AndyHood
Summary: Some fates are twined together, John Watson was always meant to meet the Holmes brothers. Separated from his unit, John stumbles upon a terrorists cell holding a hostage deep in the mountains. The man who saved him has always been a mystery, no matter what his resources he could never find out who it was. Mycroft never suspected to find him as his brother's new flatmate. No Slash
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft took shallow breaths, the pain from his fractured ribs not allowing for much else. It had been two weeks since he had been captured, two weeks from when his convey had been attacked on his tour of the bases that he had been forced to go on. Only now he could see that it had all been a trap, a way to get him from England to a place where he was less guarded more open to attack. There must have been a leak, that is the only way someone could have found out that it was Mycroft Holmes visiting the base, and not James Carter.

He lay on his side, on the rock floor of the caves that his captors had holed in; though by the way they talked he would soon be given to the man that had orchestrated this entire attack. Though who that was he didn't know, in all the overheard conversations during and after his beatings not one would mention the person's name as if they were scared to even say it out loud. He gently pressed his face against the cool stone, feeling relief from his swollen eye as the coolness soothed the wound. He imagined not even Sherlock would have recognized his face at this point. His whole body felt like one giant bruise, covered in cuts and bruises from the daily beatings.

His mind wondered to his little brother, he hoped that his younger brother was still clean, that his protocols were being enforced. Sherlock needed to stay clean; his mind was too brilliant to waste it on drugs. No matter what Sherlock thought, Mycroft worried about him constantly and truly just wanted the best for him. So many walls had been built up between the brothers, little grudges that were left to fester, causing resentment to build up. Mycroft missed his happy little brother that used to smile and laugh and loved his older brother. That used to sneak into his room when he had a nightmare, and used to beg to tell him a story. His brother buried that happy little boy with layers of cynical, and arrogance, labeling himself as a sociopath. His brother forced to his these parts because of a world that didn't understand him. He was forced to shoulder all this without anyone to share the burden, Mycroft too busy with his own agendas to see what the world was doing to his dear brother. A small part of Mycroft wondered if his brother would care that he was most likely going to die, if he would be glad to finally be rid of the nuisance that he thought Mycroft was. Laying here Mycroft allowed his mind to dwell on these questions, when in other situations he wouldn't dare dwell on such things. He usually wore his father's saying as a mantle, that caring wasn't an advantage, sentiment made you weak. It was only in these moments that he allowed himself to feel like all the rest of the human population.

He was so lost in these thoughts he didn't hear his captors enter his cell until rough hands grabbed his arms. He was jerked to his feet and a bag shoved over his head, not that it was necessary. He counted three lefts and two rights from his cave to the entrance of the cave system. It was a shock from the cool air in the caves to the blast of dry heat that was the desert. He was unceremoniously shoved on his knees before the bag was ripped from his head, pain quickly cutting through his mind with the bright light.

He could help but hiss as he squinted trying to adjust to the sudden change. It took a few minutes but eventually he was able to take in his surroundings. As he suspected he was in the mountains that looked like the Tora Bora range. He was loosely surrounded with about fifteen men, all armed with high caliber rifles. He focused on the man standing in front of him, obviously the leader. The man smiled at Mycroft, a shark smile before he began to speak, not bothering to use English, knowing that Mycroft could understand him.

"Good afternoon Mr. Holmes I am Raza, and I offer you a chance Mr. Holmes, you are a very powerful man with many connections in the world. Cooperate with us and I will not turn you over to the Spider. Trust me when I say Mr. Holmes that my offer is more than generous."

"You and I have different definitions of generous I am afraid" replied Mycroft stiffly using English.

Raza laughed as if Mycroft said something funny. "I have heard you are a smart man, it would be unwise to refuse me, the Spider is even more merciless then I. We could both benefit from this arrangement, and once our contract is done I will release you."

It was clear to Mycroft that Raza was lying and he knew that Mycroft knew he was lying.

"No you won't, I find that I will have to decline your offer" returned Mycroft, mentally preparing himself for the rage that would follow his answer. He wasn't disappointed as the other's man clouded with anger and with a nod to the man closest to Mycroft a rifle butt was smashed into his face. He was out before he even reached the ground.

Raza glared at the crumpled form of Mycroft before barking to his men, "Get him back inside!"

His men quickly did as they were told, dragging the unconscious form back into the cave system. He ordered the rest of his men to the trucks, it was time to meet the Spider's men and once Mycroft Holmes was tangled in the Spiders clutches he would have wished that he would have taken Raza's offer.

-~O~-

John studied the compound; he cursed himself that he had found a terrorist compound while separated from the rest of his unit. It would be his bloody luck that when the mission went south and the team had scattered that he would be left on his own. He watched as a group of men exited the cave, taking note of the man that was being dragged out with a bag over his head. Ducking back behind the rock, John wondered if he had just stumbled on an execution. He didn't risk being discovered by daring another look, but stayed hidden behind the cluster of rocks, listening to the voices that were carried by the wind. The local dialect was easy to recognize but he froze when another voice floated back to the soldier one that had a familiar English accent. Daring to take a peek, his eyes sought the man that had been forced to kneel. He took in the blood and dirt that covered the man, and the wounds he could see, he looked terrible his face covered in bruises and cuts. His face pale, and not just pale from lack of sun, but from blood lose. John quickly pinpointed to source of bleeding, a spot on the man thigh, much of the man's pant leg was soaked with blood and John could tell it was still sluggishly bleeding. That was not to mention the many cuts that covered the man's torso, that were also weeping blood.

It was this man that the voice came from, and as John watched one of the terrorists snapped forward and smashed the butt of his rifle into the man's face. The man went down hard and as John watched he was dragged back into the caves. The compound becoming a hive of activity as men began to run around and trucks were brought forward. The man whom John guessed was the leader issued orders and over two-thirds of the men who were outside got into the trucks, heading east. Leaving only a handful of soldiers to protect the cave and to watch the prisoner.

John looked at the sun, he had three hours to make his way to the planned rendezvous point, but if he waited that long who knows if the cell would still be here after he convinced the Sarge to come back. From what he observed the men were obviously not planning to stay much longer as crates of weapons and supplies were being piled to the mouth of the cave, John was sure that once whatever business the leader had left on was done the whole compound would move. He didn't have that much time, from the looks of it the gent was losing to much blood and the leader didn't seem to mind if he died or not if he hadn't did anything to stop the bleeding. But the odds were not in John's favor, eight to one were not good odds especially if he attacked them on their home turf. But his sense of morality was refusing to be silent, this man needed his help and it was that in mind he slowly began to creep closer to the caves his browning clench tightly in his hand as went into the breach.

* * *

This my first attempt at a Sherlock fic, so I hope that you enjoyed, and please let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

John crawled over rocks carefully, making sure not to let make a mistake of causing a rock slide as he drew closer to the mouth of the cave system. To be successful John would have to be careful, and quick, while also neutralizing all terrorist threats. Which would be difficult, John had no knowledge of how big the cave system was and exactly how many targets were inside, one wrong move and he would be dead or worse captured by the enemy with no hope of rescue since technically he was on a base 150 miles to the north. It took over ten minutes to finally reach ground level, and once there he quickly ran in a crouched position to the wall of rock beside the cave.

Now that he was close to his objective, his breathing started to become deeper as he settled in what he called his battle calm. Nothing else mattered but the task at hand, which was helpful when he was performing emergency surgery with bombs and bullets flying overhead. He began to slink towards the opening, when out from the mouth of the cave a man stepped out, an automatic rifle cradled in his hands as he took a few steps forward. John silently cursed, a plan quickly forming as he slipped his gun into his belt before tensing his body.

John lunged forward and grabbed the man in a choke hold before he knew that John was behind him. The man immediately began to struggle and tried to cry out. John just firmly grabbed the man's head and twisted feeling the bones and tendons snap underneath his hands, and suddenly the man was dead weight in his arms. John adjusted his grip so that it was underneath the man's armpits as he dragged the man to hide the body in the rocks on the foot of the mountain. Once he was sure the body was hidden he made his way to the entrance of the cave, gun back in his hand. The cave was immensely cooler then outside; it was almost a shock to the system.

As he let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the cave, he kept his back to the wall and listened, hearing nothing but his own heartbeat. He let himself further adjust into the situation, the adrenaline flowing through his veins made him calm, the world is crystal clear. When his eyes had become used to the darkness of the cave he slowly began to walk forward placing each foot down with care. Further and further he went, following the string of lights that had been strung to the ceiling which John could reach if he stretched his hand up, and for once he was happy that he was shorter than most men. The tunnel he followed twisted and turned in the mountain, and every few meters was a door. John opened each one, some were empty, and others had crates and boxes. One had nothing but a chair in the middle and John felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw pools of dried blood around it. Trying to get the image of what had probably been done to this man John was attempting to rescue out of his head he didn't hear the soft treads of someone coming until he turned to continue on coming face to face with one of the insurgents. For one long moment both parties looked at each other stunned to see each other. The moment was broken when John hand twitched.

John felt like cursing loudly as the man began to yell while firing at John, infiltrating silently was no longer an option for John so he had no problems returning fire as he tried to duck into the doorway of the room. But he wasn't quick enough, two rounds from the insurgents gun slammed into body armor. The breath was knocked out of him as his back slammed against the wall momentary stunned. John groaned as he slide to the floor, he drew in small breaths as his hand investigated the holes, relieved to find that his armor had stopped the rounds further examination would be needed to see if his ribs were just bruised or if he cracked a few.

But that had to wait for the moment, as more voices began to bounce off the walls of the cave. This was a bit no good, he did not have the upper hand in this situation. It was still roughly six to one odds, and it seemed like all of this was just around the corner of his wall. Taking a steady breath he gripped his gun in his right hand before rounding the corner, exposing his head and shoulder. He managed three shots before he ducked back behind the wall. His knew his aim was true as he heard the sound of three bodies fall to the ground.

Three down, and three left for now. John knew he couldn't pull the same trick as he hauled himself to his feet. He had two options, he could retreat and hope they followed him or he could go for a full frontal assault. Both had their own risks, but it all hinged on how much time. He didn't know when the truck would return, or how injured the man was. Who knows, the man could be bleeding out right now or the truck could return and he would be pinned down on both sides by enemy fire and that situation would lead to his death. He released the clip and put in a full one, a frontal assault it would be.

Taking a deep breath he stepped out from his cover his pistol out in front of him. The terrorists were all foolishly in the open, and with three quick shots as he walked forward they were all down. John kept walking forward until he in the middle of the six men, crouching down he quickly made sure all of them were dead before he stood again. He paused for a few minutes, if there were more they would come running at the sound of gunshots. But there was nothing, no others came so John stood and continued on his way not allowing himself to relax as he went forward.

After three more rooms, he found the one he was looking for. The room was dimly lite just as the rest of them but in the middle of the floor was a form of a body not moving. As John moved further into the room, his nose filled with the smell of blood and body waste. John moved quickly to the man's side, setting his kit next to him as he moved to see if the man was still alive.

-0-p

Mycroft walked the halls of his mind fortress, hiding from what was going on around him. He could hide away from the pain, at least for a little while but he couldn't forget it was there. The walls of his fortress were tinged red, and the walls pulsed slightly out to match the pounding headache from the rifle butt to the face. Mycroft ignored these effects and focused on what was inside different rooms, memories played on the walls like videos. He stopped to watch the memory of baby Sherlock tottering on his feet for the first time, bypassing their parents and heading straight to Mycroft with a smile that lite up his face. In the privacy of his mind he allowed himself to smile at the memory allowing the sentiment to show on his face. There was once a time that Sherlock had loved him dearly, and looked at him with admiration and sought his approval. Then he had left, went to Uni and basically forgot he had a little brother, never calling, never returning the letters, and never coming home during breaks. He didn't even notice when the letters started to dwindle until they stopped arriving all together. When he finally came home, Sherlock wouldn't even look at him, making snide comments when Mycroft tried to talk to him. It was his biggest regret, letting his brother drift away and why he so seldomly let himself review the memories of his childhood, his sort of penance for what he forced his brother to become. He suddenly felt a disturbance with his body, his captors were back which meant that he was going to be delivered to the man who set this whole situation up. He firmly shut to door to his memories and began to walk to the entrance of the fortress, he wouldn't cower in his mind he would meet this man face to face.

-0op-

Mycroft's eyes snapped open to see a soldier bending over him, fingers pressed against his throat checking for a pulse. Mycroft couldn't help but flinch away, his brain failed to process that this was not one of his captors as its pounding caused his thoughts to jumble, all Mycroft wanted to do was run away. Warm hands were suddenly on either side of his face and he was looking into the bluest eyes that he had ever seen, eyes that were filled with concern.

"Hey, hey it's alright, calm down" the man soothed, the familiar accent made Mycroft relax as the man pulled out a knife and cut the bonds that held his hands and feet together. Gentle hands rolled him until he was flat on his back, before they dug into the pack the soldier had beside him and dug out a medical kit. "I'm just going to check you for internal injuries" stated the man calmly as he slowly lifted what was left of Mycroft's shirt. He winced in sympathy as he uncovered Mycroft's wounds. "They really worked you over mate." The hands were firm but gentle as they examined his torso, his warm hands made Mycroft shiver, he was so cold. "You got three broken ribs, two on the right and one on the left, while at least two others are fractured. I'm going to give you a few shots to help the infection that's starting to set in and clean out some of the nastier looking wounds."

Mycroft nodded, watching as a syringe was filled and injected into the crook of his elbow. Before the soothing hands set to work cleaning and stitching the worse looking wounds with efficacy. Mycroft realized that the doctor must have also given him a shot of morphine as his felt like he was floating, and it was only the calm voice of the doctor that kept him grounded.

"Hang in there, I'm going to get you out of here" assured the blonde soldier, looking reassuringly down at Mycroft. It was funny but looking into the soldiers blue eyes Mycroft couldn't help but believe him. A foreign feeling of trust welled up within him as the drugs won and he was pulled back into the darkness.

John was grateful that the man passed out from the drugs as he quickly stitched the worse of the wounds and bandaged the others. The worse wound John found was a bullet wound that was several days old in the man's right leg, upper thigh; whoever dressed it had done a shoddy job and showed signs of infection. But John was confident if he got to the man to a proper hospital in time, he would be able to keep the leg and be able to recover with minimal damage. Most of the damage done was superficial, they didn't want him dead but they wanted to make sure he felt pain.

From what was left of the blokes clothing, John could tell he was a civilian, though how and why he had been caught by the Taliban the surgeon didn't know. He would have to move quickly, he didn't know how much longer the majority of the terrorists would be gone, but he wanted to be well on his way before they came back. He finished quickly and gathered his supplies back into his bag, before John carefully picked up the man, and being as careful as he could of the man's injuries John maneuvered him into a fireman's carry ignoring his screaming ribs.

It wasn't the best position for the man, but it freed his right hand to grip his Browning, while the other wrapped around the man's long legs as he slowly and cautiously walked back to the entrance of the cave system keeping close to the wall. Once back at the entrance, John scanned his surrounding before exiting, by the suns position overhead he had lost an hour in caves. He had a lot of ground to cover if he wanted to get there in time. Murmuring a soft apology to the man on his shoulder he began to climb back to the trail he had been on, once on it again John began to jog putting distance between him and compound, where twenty minutes later three trucks pulled to a stop.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was over high as John began to make his way to the rendezvous point. He alternated between a jog and a quick march, trying to conserve his strength while also covering as much ground as he could. Only stopping to switched the shoulder on which he carried the man on, he paused only long enough to check the man's pulse before continuing, the man was so still that John frequently checked the pulse to make sure that he wasn't dead. The pace he set ate up the miles as he traveled steadily, until a full hour had passed and he felt that he had put enough distance between them and the caves. Fear of being followed had pushed him forward, but he could feel the wetness of blood soaking through his uniform so he found a spot of shade and began to change the bandages. This time taking his time as he properly began to dress the wounds, paying attention to every single wound. He was so focused on his work that he didn't notice Mycroft's eyes flutter open.

At first Mycroft was confused, thinking the whole rescue had been a dream, but he could feel the hot Afghani sun, feel sand beneath his hands, and the sound of another human breathing as he felt a presence lean over him. Opening his eyes he watched the brown fatigue figure change his bandages checking every single one of his wounds, unaware his patient had woken up.

It gave Mycroft a chance to study this man, from the condition of his skin and the fact he didn't look like he was suffering from the heat as bad as Mycroft was, he could summarize that the good Doctor had been here for quite a long time, and it wasn't his first tour. Through the way his eyes scanned the land around them every few minutes and the callouses on his fingers he was also a soldier and used a gun quite regularly. A soldier doctor, a warrior and a healer, a walking contradiction if there ever was one, each side balancing the other, his right hand took life, while his left hand saved it. This was a man with a strong morale and loyalty and not easily shaken. Had a rough childhood, but he rose above it to become a Doctor, who joined the Army to help pay for that training but grew to love it. A man that anyone would be glad to have on their side, a strong asset to anyone's team.

Though as Mycroft eyes glanced around he realized that they were all alone, if this had been a rescue mission then there would have been more than one man and they would have been extracted by now. So this lead to the question of who was this man, and why did he save him?

"Good you're awake" murmured the Doctor, bringing him out of his musings. Mycroft let his eyes meet the Doctor's blue ones once again. Surprised when the man held his gaze instead of turning away, Mycroft stare had made Kings, Heads of States, and Dictators turn away, but this man held his gaze without a problem and the desire to learn who this man, to learn all his secrets grew stronger in Mycroft.

John had been surprised to look up mid-way through his examination to see the man calmly studying him, though he had no signs of waking up. At the sound of his voice, the man's eyes meet his and John was stunned at the power of the man's stare. His eyes seemed to look through John; he had never seen such eyes, though they were clouded with pain. They were sharp and calculating and the color of clouds during a snow storm, and just as cold.

Taking out a pin light he bent and shined it into the man's eyes, nodding as the pupils reacted normally. The gun butt to the face had not caused a concussion, but had broken the man's nose. "This is going to hurt" he said as set the nose and applied plaster's. Once that was done he stripped off his gloves and turned to grab his canteen.

"Here drink, we got quite a few miles before we get to the rendezvous place and hopefully Sarge can get someone to get you to a hospital and back were you belong, Sir" rambled the soldier, bringing a canteen up to Mycroft letting the water pour down his parched throat. He wanted to grab the canteen and drain it, but the soft voice of the Doctor stopped him. "Slowly, slowly, not too much don't want you to get sick" the man paused before huffing a laugh, "Well any sicker. How's your pain level?"

"Manageable" croaked out Mycroft, and ended up having to cough making his head pound and eyes go momentarily black as his torso screamed in pain. The soldier beside him immediately moved as to support him, and Mycroft was glad that he didn't try to reassure him with assurances but stayed silent until Mycroft sagged against him exhausted. John eased him back, grunting as his own ribs protesting.

The grunt didn't go unnoticed by Mycroft and he immediately focused on the Doctor, seeing for the first time the man's entire torso and the three perfect circles that were in the man's fatigues. As Mycroft watched, the Doctor quickly removed his body armor and inspected it before removing three bullets from it that he stuck in his pocket. After that he pulled up his uniform and Mycroft eyes widened at the bruises that marred the muscular torso of the soldier, the biggest was almost directly over the man's heart, two others bruises decorated his ribs, and it was with study hands that the Doctor inspected his own injuries, not at all bothered with the fact that he if he wasn't wearing body armor he would have died rescuing Mycroft.

John's examination confirmed his earlier assessment, he had two cracked ribs but other than that it was just deep bruising, and he knew that by tomorrow he would barely be able to bend. Deciding that he didn't need a wrap he quickly put on back on his armor and turned back to the man who was looking at him with a slightly shocked expression on his face. "It looks worse than it actually is" assured John strapping his gun to his back. Mycroft didn't answer, he had saw the signs of pain that the Doctor was trying to hide and he frowned back at the man.

John knew he hadn't convinced the man by the way he frowned at him, but John was a soldier and he would put up with the discomfort of his wounds despite everything. So without another word John leaned down and picked the man back up, but this time bridal style and continued on.

Mycroft tried to be stoic, to not let his pain show. But the bouncing jog was too much and he couldn't stop the whimper that escaped his lips. He wished that he could sink back into the blackness but he had to stay aware. But that was a losing battle as he found himself floating, but it was his will that kept him from going there. Instead he focused on the soldier that plodded on neither slowing nor stopping as he went mile after mile, he showed no signs of exhaustion even though he was carrying another person that easily taller and outweighed him.

So it was a shock when they came to an abrupt stop, Mycroft opened his eyes that he hadn't realized he closed to see John absolutely still as his eyes scanned his surroundings, before he pursed his lips and whistled a four note tune an A, #C, B, D.* Moments later there was a returning four notes, and Mycroft's slow brain realized that it was a signal. They were at the meeting place where the rest of the Doctor's unit was. As Mycroft watched, men began to appear from the surroundings all dressed like the Doctor. In brown camou fatigues, that held no type of identification to who they were, but from a glance Mycroft could tell that three were American, while four were British, and one Australian.

John was relieved to see all the members of the unit were all there and looking at them from his Doctor eye's he could tell none were injured.

"Doc good thing you showed up, we had you written off as a goner" called Zach, no noticing the burden that John carried. The Sarge was the first to notice as John came closer that John had a man in his arms.

"What the hell you got there Doc," demanded Sarge drawling the units attention to the man in John's arms. Suddenly John was surrounded by his team, all of them asking questions as they stared at the man in the bloody cloths. John didn't, instead making his way to the shade were Johnson moved quickly to lay out a blanket. John nodded thankfully and he gently put down his burden and checking the bandages again while the rest of the men crowded around him. Once he was satisfied he turned to look at his Commanding Officer.

"I found him in the cave on my way here, so I brought him with me" answered John smoothly not going into detail as he accepted the canteen that was offered to him.

Sarge frowned but didn't push, instead he knelt down beside John and began to pat down the man's pockets searching for identification, he knew that John hadn't did these, he would have been more worried about the man's wounds. He was lucky and found a wallet in the back pocket that was more or less intact and was surprised to find a government ID and even more surprised when he read the name.

He whistled tipping his helmet back, "John you don't realize what you stumbled on. This James Carter is some government official who went missing about two weeks ago. He was on a convoy to one of the bases for a review when it was attacked; the whole convoy was killed except for him. They have massive man hunt going on trying to find this bloke and you just happen to stumble upon him Doc, you must the luckiest man in all of Afghanistan." The Sergeant eyed John as he said this, who ducked his head further over his patient.

"There might have been a terrorist or two and a cave, but I honestly just stumbled upon them. I didn't even think to ask who he was, had no clue he was the government official they were looking for" said John honestly.

If Mycroft hadn't been teetering on the edge of unconsciousness he would have gaped at the Doctor. What kind of man went into a cave full of terrorists just to save a man that he had no knowledge about? Who was this man?! Everything he observed about his man told him that he was ordinary, a goldfish but he wasn't there was something about him that didn't fit into a neat box much like the rest of society. It frustrated Mycroft as well as intrigued him. He jerked at the sharp pain in his elbow and it was too late as he realized the Doctor had pumped drugs into his system. His eyes once again found the blue ones and he opened his mouth trying to demand who he was but the drugs worked quickly and Mycroft went spiraling into the black without any answers.

-p-p-p

Rue's tune from the Hunger Games.

Hoped that you liked it!


	4. Chapter 4

John kneeled down next to Mr. Carter, checking his vitals one last time. Sergeant Wilson had called for a helicopter to come pick up Mr. Carter no questions asked. Sarge had barely gotten his name out when someone was demanding the coordinates. Apparently Sarge had been right when he said Mr. Carter was an important person.

"How's he doing?" asked Sergeant Wilson squatting next to John.

"As okay as could be expected for his injuries. His colors good, and there's no serious sign of infection for most of his wounds. I'm most worried about the bullet wound in his leg, whoever they had patch him up didn't do it properly and it is infected. He needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible, there not much I can do with the supplies that we have."

Wilson nodded, studying the man before turning to John. "John, I know that you risked your life for this man, it didn't escape my notice of those three new bullet holes in your body armor. But as you know there is no record of this mission, as far as the British Government is concerned we were never here and you are still back on the base with the rest of the Fifth. You will never be recognized for this and I am sorry for that, the Army needs more men like you."

John nodded expecting this, "I know Sarge, I didn't rescue him for the recognition, like I said I didn't even know who he was until you found his ID. I saw him with those terrorists; saw his condition and I knew that I couldn't just leave him there. I was lucky most of the terrorists left in two trucks and only left a handful of men which I took care of."

Sarge let out a laugh at that, "Got to hand it to you Doc, you are the most honorable man I have ever met, you make the rest of us look bad."

John huffed, "You would have done the same thing if you were there."

Sarge just shook his head, "That is where you are wrong John, most would have went and got back-up and waited before going in. Not you John, I'm sure the thought crossed your mind but you didn't do either of that you went in and you were the one who got him out."

John didn't say anything but Wilson could see the tips of his ear turn slightly red. But modest John didn't say anything else, but busied himself with the bandages covering the man's chest and Sarge chuckled again. But he knew that John wouldn't comment on his last statement, because John truly believed that he did nothing special with what he did. The RAMC lost a good man when John became a combat soldier.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an approaching helicopter. Motioning at the rest of the squad they melted back into the landscape including John, until it was just Sarge standing all alone by the body of the unconscious man. The sound got louder and louder, until from behind a sand dune the helicopter came into view. Lifting his binoculars he trained them on the bird, relaxing at the sight of the British flag painted on the tail of the copter. Walking out in the open he began to wave his hand signaling the copter until it landed in front of him.

Wilson was surprised that besides a company of four men, a woman also jumped out of the bird. He could tell immediately that she wasn't Army with her long hair and manicured nails but there was an air around her that told the Sergeant that she wasn't a woman to be messed with.

The company came straight for him, when they got close he turned heel and motioned them to follow him. Giving his report as he walked, "Your man's in stable condition, but he's been worked over pretty good. Multiple injuries and one gunshot wound to his thigh that's showing signs of infection. Right now he's under some medication for the pain."

At this time he had lead them to Carter, and he watched as one man that he assumed was a Doctor and the woman knelt next to him. The woman was muttering under her breath as she gentle cupped his checks. When Wilson was sure that no one was looking at him he slowly drew back. The less questions he was asked the better for him and his squad. He made the cover of the rocks, were the rest of his men were waiting and with a silent command they started to retreat they had a long march to the pick-up point.

Athena finally took her attention from Mycroft assuring herself that it was actually him and that he was alive. For the past few weeks she had been at the base that Mycroft had last inspected working with their team to try to find out were Mycroft had been taken and if he was even still alive. Whoever had orchestrated this had been smart and left behind very little clues and no ransom demand had been sent. Hope had slowly grown dimmer by the second week with no word; Athena had worried that they wouldn't find him. But out of the blue the call had come in, that he had been found. She had jumped the helicopter with a few members of Mycroft's detail and a doctor. She almost didn't believe that it was him, that it was an elaborate mistake that is until she was kneeling next to the body and despite the bruises she knew that it was Mycroft.

The doctor she had brought with her proceeded to go over his injuries murmuring to himself and Athena cringed at some of the injuries and pursed her lips at the sight of the gunshot wound just were the man had said it was. Turning she opened her mouth to ask the soldier were he had found Mycroft at only to discover that the man in question was gone. Her eyes snapped around checking for snipers, instantly thinking that it was a trap.

"Get him back to the copter now!" she barked getting out of the way so Mycroft could be picked up. The team snapped to action quickly grabbing Mycroft and retreating back to the helicopter. Athena eyes scanned the surroundings as she retreated not feeling safe until the helicopter was in the air. Athena wrapped her hands around her bosses, staring into his beaten face as the doctor fussed around him inserting an IV and began to take his vitals. Glancing out the window as they began to fly her eyes picked out a lone figure on a bluff who raised a hand in farewell, Athena watched as the figure turned and disappeared beneath the rise.

John breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the helicopter fly away, raising a hand in good-bye, glad that the man would get the care that he needed, and God willing would not be to affected by his time in the caves. Turning he began to follow the rest of his squad looking forward to returning back to his mates and the cool shower that was calling to him.


End file.
